Sheogorath and the Dragon's favor
by N.E. Isenhower
Summary: Sheogorath has made a blunder. Accidentally slaying the Dragonborn while sending him out on a quest and incidentally doomed the world. In desperation he brainwashes the fabled Greybeards to help bring someone new to the fray, someone who may be able to save the realm. Little does the Prince know, that the help he thought he had brought, may bring the end of two realms instead of 1.


As they Grey Warden's steel sliced down into the dragon's scales, everything seemed to freeze. The earth beneath Flemeth's feet gave way, the world and people around faded into dust in the breeze. She felt her mind drift away, her soul seemed to be pulled from her bones in the sounds of thunder.

Moments later, the sky came into focus, the ground beneath her became solid. She felt the icy winds against her skin. The world began to come into focus, slowly, the bright lights that had swarmed her before receded, the thunderous noises ceased in her ears. She saw the faces of many hooded grey robed men, all frozen in their places. All appeared to have been _shouting,_ at her position. Even in her disoriented state she could feel the power in them all, how foreign it felt compared to her norm. She knew instantly that she was no longer in Thedas, in Ferelden, but somewhere different, Somewhere with no clear ties to her world.

She felt her powers begin to surge back within her, though they felt strained.

"Well aren't you a peculiar one?"

This voice rang in from behind her, it sounded different than any real accent she had heard before, it sounded drawn out and exaggerated. Flemeth turned to see a man standing at the summit of the snowy peaks to which she was standing. He wore an odd purple and orange suit, tailored specifically for himself. His white hair was combed back and slightly oiled, he had a thin yet tough beard running along his jaw and engulfing his chin. His eyes were a deep golden, with small black slanted pupils.

"Don't worry about them Greybeards, they won't remember any of this. To them it would've just been an afternoon's nap."

Flemeth could feel the odd patterns of power that had imbued themselves into this man with a cane. The oddities and complexities of it surprising her. He was no ordinary man, nor any demon or spirit she had ever encountered, but something alien, something new.

"Well Ms. Dragonlady, let me introduce myself, I am your local madman Sheogorath. Well, not a local madman, I'm _the _madman. The king of the Shivering Isles. Well sort of, unless the dukes get rambunctious, than I've got to cut them down a peg, or a leg, arm, maybe a head or two."

The man held a almost mocking grin on his face, showing rows of greyedteeth.

"You're glibness does you no credit I'm afraid, and I've little patience for your oddities." Flemeth spoke coldly, and with a grim venomous point to her words, Sheogorath was more than amused.

"No matter how long you may have lived outside this realm, here you are mortal. A little mortal with little mortal magics."

Flemeth smiled and turned to the frozen greybeards, "So why have you summoned me to this place?"

Sheogorath seemed to hover off the ground as he crossed his legs, the cane dancing about his lap like an ecstatic bird, "To help me fix a problem. You see, I may have sort of, accidently….. doomed the world."

Flemeth looked at the world around her, "All worlds are doomed, it is just a matter of how many they slay before the end comes and they swallow everything up with them."

"Exactly, no truer words spoken miss dragonlady. But you see, this world faces an apocalypse every millenia or two. Luckily however, we always have a hero or chosen one to fulfill some fooey prophecy or another and save it." Sheogorath trailed off and looked up at the sun, his mind fixed on something unseen, "Problem is, I may have killed the one meant to save it this time."

Flemeth laughed coldly out loud, "So you summon poor old Flemeth from her home to a place foreign to her and expect her to save it?" Flemeth was leading this conversation now, "Sadly mad one, I have my own problems that I must see to in my realm. And I've no time to tend to yours."

Sheogorath turned his head and stared at Flemeth, his face losing it's goofy grin, "You see, dear sweet granny dragon, that's where you're wrong."

"Really? Oh do tell."

"You see, you have been brought to a world completely different from yours in many different ways. From the creatures to even people, do you know we have cat people? With fur and whiskers and everything! Anyways, off topic….. Oh yes! Right! You see someone who was part dragon had to kill a bigger meaner dragon. But I killed the poor bastard, yes yes tragic, really not my finest hour."

"Get to the point stranger."

Sheogorath continued, as if Flemeth never spoke, " ANYWAYS, so I did some soul searching, ate some of the finest cheeses in the world, and found you. A witch as well as a dragon."

Flemeth gave a quiet smirk as he finished, "Pretty much exactly what I need, if I know what I'm talking about….. and if you want to go back home safely, I'd do as you're told."

Flemeth gave a loud cackle, "Everytime I think I've figure the world out, whether by clarity or madness, she shows me something new."

"This isn't your world darling." Sheogorath said darkly, "So, do we have an agreement? I send you back home, you kill the big mean beasty?"

Sheogorath lowered himself down to the ground in front of Flemeth, and held out his right hand, leaning against the cane in his left.

"Forgive me if I do not shake your hand, but I suppose you have made your point. I suppose I will help you."

Flemeth turned from Sheogorath and started to walk down the mountain side, "Oh and by the way ! You don't look quite like yourself, well almost, a bit younger around the edges, the wonders of rejuvenation! Tata!"

Flemeth turned to face the bearded man one last time, but he was gone. A small steamy sweet roll on the ground where he once was, setting seductively on a silver plate, with white icing dripping off it's surface cutely.

Flemeth walked slowly down the mountain side until she found an old cobble stone road. She followed it slowly, taking in this new world she was now held captive. The birds danced in the trees and sang, until they caught sight of Flemeth, and then seemed to flee from her presence like life itself depended upon it. But the basic animals were the same as the ones she'd left, a fox strolled by, a rabbit, a wolf charged at her but seemed to realize the error in its actions and fled into the treeline. Finally she saw a small stream and moved for it, kneeling by the waters she examined herself. She appeared young, looking much like her daughter Morrigan, only instead of the short hair and bun, her hair was long and primed up in it's normal horned fashion. She wore her red studded leather armor, with all it's accessories. She wore an odd amulet however, made of bright silver, and shaped like a heart with a bearded man's face in it's center, on the back was engraved, _"In case things become just to confusing, I'm just a wabbajack's throw away. Sincerely yours, Sheogorath."_

"A deception or a gift from the madman." Flemeth mused over the thought for a moment, studying the amulet. With little to no debate she realized that it was merely a means for the crazed man to track her whereabouts, not to mention not knowing what a wabbajack even was, she decided on just foolishness and fantasy. And decided at that moment that the first merchant she met would be given the amulet for as much as they could afford. Flemeth went back to analyzing herself in the reflections cast by the water, admiring for a moment just how much younger that Sheogorath had made her.

"Give us your purse lady!"

Flemeth stood slowly and turned to face a group of three bandits, her hands behind her back business like. A really tall and burly Nord man was the leader, he spoke more deeply than the others, which were an incredibly shorter Breton woman and a large lizard with red scales, all were wearing tattered furs and holding crudely fashioned iron weapons in there hands inexperienced hands. She could smell the anxiety radiating off of them all. This was either their first, or most recent, attempt at burglary. Oh, how she seemed to revel at the thought of being able to test her abilities here in this world.

"I won't ask again!"

Flemeth smiled at them and lifted her gaze to the leader, "One's greatest weapon is the mind and it's ability to assess the threats before it. I suggest you use yours, begone from me while I'm feeling charitable and forgiving."

"What!" the nord laughed, "Who are you to say what we can and can't do? And your charity!" The group laughed to themselves at the audacity of the woman before them, "There are three of us and only one of you. So let's make this easy, hand over the pretty necklace."

"Easy? It's never as easy as it appears. If you truly desire this trinket, come and claim it for yourself."

The nord swung at Flemeth who caught the nord's weapon, an iron mace, as it crashed down upon her with her left hand, in the other a red aura began to envelope her fingers and float around them like smoke. The nord was stunned, as were his companions!

"What is this!"

"You must earn what you try to take, I would have it no other way."

The other two bandits had no time at all to dodge there leaders corpse as Flemeth connected with her glowing hand right in his mid section, sending him flying and screaming in pain, he bounced off the dirt ground like a flat stone across a lake until he hit a tree, which shook violently under the power of the man's flight.

The shorter woman turned as Flemeth fell upon her, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her high, she took the dagger from the bandit's hand and stabbed it into her head from below the jaw, the tip of it pointing out of her skull,removing it swiftly and placing it almost surgically into the woman's breast. She let the body drop on the ground at her feet. The argonian, a cowardly fool, turned and began to sprint through the trees wildly, trying to escape the inevitable. Finally he was alone, surrounded on all sides by trees. He knew not which way to turn, each time he felt an urge to run one way, he saw a shadow dance along the . Each time he turned to leave, he'd see a glimpse of his assailant in the corner of his eye. Finally, he felt the warmth of breath against the back of his neck, which made every scale around his body shiver in fear and regret. THe argonian flipped his body around and fell down to his back, his weapon falling from his hand.

Flemeth stood over him, scanning and examining him, "What manner of creature are you?"

The argonian gulped and found it hard to respond, "Speak worm!" Flemeth's eyes began to glow a deep fiery crimson.

"I-I am an argonian. A son of Black Marsh."

"Black Marsh?" Flemeth pondered for a moment, feeling the sudden change in breeze, going silent, "Greed is a terrible poison, with no cure. It only takes and destroys."

She slowly pulled the silver amulet from her person and dangled it by the chain above the Argonians head, "Take this as a warning."

She let the amulet drop down onto the Argonians chest, he looked down at it, then back up, and she was gone. Her presence slowly fading away, his senses calming.

The argonian peered around, making sure that the witch was gone, and stood, grabbing the silver amulet in his claws. He looked back at the places where his friends bodies had been, where they still lay, then down at the treasure that had taken the lives of his two friends. He stared down absently at the bearded face engraved upon it, becoming entranced. He sighed, an extreme sadness taking him, and he began to actually examine and study the treasure. He traced the elegant designs of it, and stared absently into the engraved eyes of the face on it, how welcoming and pleasant they looked. How dark and seductive the small grin on it was. He began to walk, no direction to his step. In his mind he saw flashes of his childhood, he and his siblings playing outside in the sun, his parents. But it all was soon replaced with something darker. Those he loved most he saw engulfed in fire. He saw the skin melt away from their bones, and maggots begin to devour their guts and mold begin to corrode the muscles. The sun became nothing but a black dot on the horizon, and thick scarlet blood began to pour down onto the argonian in his mind. He began to hear the Madgod's laugh as his vision began to fade into dizzying blurs. The earth shook as the Mad Prince spoke.

"Hello puny mortal, you have made a mistake. No... a choice, however poor it may have been. The only mistake you made was holding onto the pretty trinket for as long as you did. You see, that isn't for you. And so you must pay the price for that."

The voice trailed off and the trinket began to glow a deep blue, it froze and burned the argonian's claws, causing him to drop it down onto the ground. There it began to dance and twirl around, the chain elongating and slowly spreading up and coiling around the argonian like snakes.

"Welcome to the Dementia side of my being. Believe it or not, it's been a long time since I had to kill someone like this. Gonna have to do it more often."

The last thing the argonian heard as the chains slowly consumed his body, crushing and choking him, was the madgod's insatiable laughter, and he smelled oddly the auroma of cheese.

...

(So tell me, how bad was it? Any suggestions? Any type of lore I'm breaking? Except for the lore I had to break to get Flemeth into Skyrim of course. And please please if you look at this please type a review.)


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